


Get Down and Crawl

by sabinelagrande



Series: The Goddamned Genderswap [2]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, F/M, Obsession, Possessive Behavior, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-07-14
Updated: 2009-07-14
Packaged: 2017-10-06 14:25:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabinelagrande/pseuds/sabinelagrande
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John is dealing with it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Get Down and Crawl

They end up dropping into a comfortable sort of thing, not-quite-friends with possibly a little more than benefits. It's possibly a little immature, being that both of them are pushing forty, but it works.

Sort of.

And even if he wanted it to, anything serious would never work out between them. John knows this because Meredith told him so. At least, he's pretty sure that's what she said; she's developed this disturbing habit of telling him really important things while she's got his dick in her mouth, probably because she knows he's completely incapable of protest. She could be asking to borrow a dollar or telling him that she's going to fly the city to Puerto Vallarta for spring break; she'd get the same enthusiastic approval either way.

But later, when he remembers how to think again, he decides that he agrees. It'd undermine both of them if anybody knew; and while John, being on rocky ground to start with, would undoubtedly suffer a loss of face, it might be fatal for Meredith.

It's not like it would be back on Earth, out here in the middle of absolutely nowhere; they certainly didn't bring anybody who's incapable of showing respect to a woman- except for Kavanagh, and he's pretty sure Sam Carter stuck him on the staff just so that the SGC never had to suffer him ever again- but you never can tell with some people. For the sake of everyone involved, it's better, if they're going to insist on being involved at all, if they keep it strictly secret and strictly sexual.

The team knows, obviously, and Teyla seems to think their arrangement is incredibly sad, for reasons which are more or less opaque to John. It's really not- it's just the most logical course of action. And so John bites his lip through M5K-3S1- where the leader of the village goes on and on about Meredith's childbearing hips- and M7X-293- where they have to pretend to be married before anyone will trade with them- and M3S-482- where someone attempts to buy her and Teyla outright- and even hundreds of tossed-off mess hall comments and leers he's not supposed to notice; and, generally speaking, he keeps his shit together.

The fucking storm blows that right out of the water.

Of course, the first fucking thing Kolya does when he shows up in _John's_ city is run straight into Elizabeth and Meredith. And honestly, it doesn't matter that they're women- it could be Ford and Bates and he wouldn't feel differently, though he'd certainly expect them to save their own damn selves- what matters is that Kolya's got his people.

At least, that's what he expected to think; but what's really making him feel like he's going to drop into some berserker rage at any moment is that Kolya's got _his Meredith_. And if he so much as touches one hair on her angry little head, John's going to chop his balls off and fucking _feed_ them to him.

Kolya, predictably, thinks it's Elizabeth- who, in fairness, is objectively the more delicate, _definitely_ the more ladylike of the two of them- he's all fired up up to protect. It works to his advantage: John's obviously terrified, distraught, and homicidal over the false news of her death, but if it had been Meredith, he'd have charged straight into the gateroom, immediately gotten himself killed, and sentenced her to a life as Cowen's pet scientist.

Thank god for villains who know how to follow a script.

He doesn't even try not to go to Meredith's room after everything is over; there's no other way he can possibly get any sleep otherwise. She lets him in without hesitation, which is good, because he'd probably have ended up sleeping in front of her door like a fucking dog if she hadn't.

She doesn't protest when he sits down in front of her and starts pulling off her clothing, running his hands over every single inch of her. It's not sexual- his hands are shaky and rough against her skin- he just needs to know, _has_ to see that she's whole. She just sighs and lets him, petting his hair soothingly and making little murmurs of consolation, leaning into his hands like she needs it as much as he does.

"It's okay, John," she keeps saying, scratching her nails softly over his scalp. "I'm okay. I promise."

His fingers finally come gently to rest over the bandage that covers her arm, hiding the ugly, painful gash that Kolya left her with. John honestly can't remember the last time he hated any one person so intensely. A dim, distant part of him is saying that he's overreacting; on the great scale of horrors that the Pegasus Galaxy has visited upon them, a little torture doesn't amount to much. But every single molecule, every fucking _atom_ of Meredith is so incredibly precious to him, and he's perfectly willing to inflict lifetimes of pain on that son of a bitch for every last _second_ of discomfort that he's caused her. He is going to make Kolya _pay_, and he's going to enjoy it.

It scares him a little how much he's going to enjoy it.

He suddenly realizes how incredibly exhausted he is. Meredith's the one with the presence of mind to tug off his boots and manhandle him into bed. He pulls her down with him; she fits herself in next to him, her back pressed up against his front. John's dimly aware that the way he's holding on to her might be uncomfortably tight, but it doesn't matter as much as being close to her does.

"I am going to kill him with my bare hands," he promises, low and fervent, his face tucked into her curls.

"We'll dance on his grave," she agrees. "If there's anything left to bury."

He holds her closer, listening to her breathe and trying to remember how to. If he thought he could- if he thought she wanted to hear it, if he thought he was physically capable of producing the words without breaking down- he'd tell her how much he loves her, how absolutely _desperate_ she makes him feel. He tells it to her soft hair instead, lips moving without a sound.


End file.
